


Why we deny ourselves what we want – the psychology behind flirting and unrequited love

by icywind



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bar hook-up, Clint Barton playing pool is sex, F/M, Jasper's taste in music and beer is questionable, M/M, Nick Fury is a Good Bro, Not quite a pwp but as close as I'll likely get, Phil goes for what he wants, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6044503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icywind/pseuds/icywind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil doesn’t really mind being the designated driver when his friends need to let off some steam after midterms. Heavy drinking would mean he won’t get to memorize how good Clint looks playing pool. Or darts. Or basically existing. He could do with a little less teasing though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why we deny ourselves what we want – the psychology behind flirting and unrequited love

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to ereshai for the quick beta. :)

 

 

“Enjoying the view, Cheese?” Nick asked as he plopped down next to Phil at the table. Phil didn’t spill the soda he’d been nursing, but it was a close thing with how guiltily his hand jerked. He then turned an impassive gaze at his best friend who just chuckled at him. 

“I don’t suppose saying I don’t know what you’re talking about will work, will it?”

“Not at all.” Nick winked before taking a pull from his beer. “Your boy looks good tonight though. Can’t blame you for staring.”

“He’s not my – I wasn’t staring,” Phil grumbled back, taking a quick glance over towards the pool table again. Clint Barton did indeed look good that night. Then again, he looked damned good every night in Phil’s opinion. All smooth grace and easy smiles as he moved around the pool table making ridiculous shot after ridiculous shot and flirting with his opponent to ease the sting from how badly he was beating them.

Sometimes Phil wished he had the nerve to play against Clint – be on the receiving end of that flirting. And well, technically Clint mildly flirted with everyone – it was kind of his way of communicating half the time it seemed – but Phil wouldn’t mind a little bit extra. A little more purpose to it.

“Not staring – sure. And I’m David Hasselhoff,” Nick grinned his reply. It was always a wonder to see his normally serious friend loosen up a bit with a beer or two in his system. Especially after the Midterms week they’d just had.

“How’s that career in Germany going?” Phil asked just before he caught sight of Maria heading towards the door. “Be right back,” he muttered, though he doubted Nick heard him over his laughter, and made his way after her. 

“Please tell me you’re not going to pine over Barton right now,” Maria said, eyeing him as she lit a cigarette and blew the smoke from the side of her lips in deference to Phil.

“Would you rather I lecture you on the dangers of smoking instead?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Touché,” Maria grinned. “And you know this is only a reward for a job well done.”

“Grades won’t come out for two more days.”

“Hey – I know I was gold with Carter – the rest don’t matter half as much.” She shrugged and took another drag.

“Peggy Carter gives nothing away,” he argued. She was like a Sphinx. Which was hilarious, no matter what Jasper said, since a number of her courses were on Ancient Egypt. 

“Maybe to you she doesn’t,” Maria replied, all confidence. “But this morning I saw her at the Union and she gave me a very slight nod. I totally passed.” The two of them fell silent for a moment as they waved to Melinda as she and Andrew passed by on their way inside. “How do you suppose you did with Jones?”

“German – pretty good. French,” Phil see-sawed his hands a little. It was probably not the best idea in the world to take both languages in addition to his three other courses and on top of his swim team duties, but he was managing. It was probably a good thing he didn’t have much of a social life. Or maybe that was the reason he didn’t have a social life? He was sure Jasper would enjoy a philosophical discussion on that.

“Maybe you should sneak into the bathroom with Barton and get a few lessons in,” Maria smirked and snubbed out her cigarette and sauntered back into the bar ahead of a sputtering Phil. 

His friends were all assholes.

They returned to the now crowded table. Nick offered Phil a new soda as he and Maria settled in across from Melinda and Andrew. Jasper had returned from his sojourn to the juke box, Blake in tow. Felix’s sour expression telling Phil all he needed to know about the musical choices Jasper had made.

“I think Garrett swindled me,” Jasper complained. “He brought this new kid – some freshie he called Ward. Fucking punk spanked me at darts. He was shitty the first round and then made an epic comeback after Garrett upped the bet.” 

A hand landed on the table next to him. Phil knew the fingers well, he’d had an embarrassing amount of fantasies about those fingers, and he knew what to expect before he could even feel the hint of heat from Clint’s body behind him. Suddenly the stupid round of Jäger shots that Jasper always insisted on having (and always insisted that Phil joined in on, designated driver or not) didn’t seem quite so stupid. He wasn’t buzzed in the slightest, but he liked to think he could maybe blame the alcohol on what he did next - which was to lean back fully against Clint’s chest. He wondered if it was purely wishful thinking and an active imagine that allowed him to hear and feel Clint take in a sharp breath.

“What did you need?” he asked, tilting his head up to covertly sniff at Clint. It was loud in the bar; he was only doing it so they could hear each other better. Unsurprisingly, Clint smelled fucking fantastic. Clint didn’t say anything in reply; instead he reached out to snag Phil’s soda and took a long drink from it. Even from the ridiculously close angle, Phil couldn’t help but watch his Adam’s apple bob as he drank. 

He really wanted to lick it.

“Thanks man,” Clint finally said, setting the drink back down. “That game was thirsty work, and there’s no way I’m grabbing Sitwell’s piss water.”

“Miller Lite is a legitimate beer, okay Barton?”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Clint chuckled. Phil had to fight hard against a shiver as it reverberated against his back. Clint hadn’t moved away yet. Nor did he seem bothered by Phil leaning against him.

“You could have gotten your own?” Phil said a moment later, proud of how he didn’t sound strangled. 

He could feel the air from Clint’s bark of laughter on his ear.

“Yeah, but yours was right here.” He smiled, something warm and maybe a little fond in his gaze. Phil could feel the blush creeping up his neck and he averted his eyes downward (there was only so much bravery he could manage around Clint Barton) – but not before he caught Maria rolling hers.

“So what is this I hear about Garrett swindling people at darts?”

Phil was careful to keep himself still as Jasper relayed his story to Clint. They were still pressed together and it felt fan-fucking-tastic. Even Nick’s eyebrow of doom wasn’t going to pull him out of this…moment. Then, all too soon, he suddenly felt cold and more than a little bereft as Clint pulled away and with a wink and a salute, he sauntered over towards Garrett and Ward.

“He’s going to go challenge Ward and get Jasper’s money back,” Blake explained in exasperation. Phil would feel more insulted, but, exasperation was about as good as it got with Felix. The fact that he would fill Phil in on what he missed while he was memorizing what it felt like to be pressed against Clint Barton meant they were actually good friends.

“Keep telling you that you can go get that anytime you want,” Nick nodded. 

“Clint ‘samples’ everyone’s drinks if he is comfortable enough with them,” Phil deflected.

“But he doesn’t let just anyone drape themselves against him,” Maria countered, even elaborating before Phil could argue with her. “Well – he is rather handsy, but, I don’t think he’d have been so passive if I’d been in your place.”

Phil shook his head and tried his best to tune out the rest of the bickering over whether or not Clint Barton was touchy-feely with everyone he was friends with. Besides – he had better things to do. Like covertly checking out Clint’s ass in a pair of jeans that fit him just right.

Melinda snorted before taking a sip of her whiskey then arched a brow at Andrew until he let out a gusty sigh and put a five down on the table in front of her.

“Are we betting and no one told me?” Jasper shook his head. “Bunch of ingrates. What were we betting on?”

“Not a group bet so you can relax, Jasper,” Andrew replies with a sigh. “Just a personal one between Mel and me about a term paper.”

“How did we go from Phil’s pining for Barton to a term paper?”

Clint had managed to talk Garret and his friend into a game of darts and Phil had been far too engrossed in watching that to pay attention to where the conversation had wandered – until his name was brought up again.

“Andrew wasn’t sure he’d be able to come out tonight – he wanted to stay in and do some research for his term paper. I told him coming out would be much better. He could do first hand field research that way.”

“What’s the paper on?” Maria asked.

“The mating rituals of college aged men.” Melinda said at the same time Andrew replied with: “Why we deny ourselves what we want – the psychology behind flirting and unrequited love.”

Phil did a spit-take, sputtering and spewing his soda over his shirt and the table both. In the ensuing uproar of laughter and teasing he shot everyone the sourest look he could manage before retreating to the bathroom. 

He did his best to wipe at the soda with first dry paper toweling to try and get the excess off, then damp ones in an attempt to stop it from staining. It wasn’t his best shirt but he didn’t really want to waste time trying to buy a new one. And maybe he didn’t want to have to deal with his friends teasing for a little while.

“I hear club soda works the best on stuff like that,” Clint said softly as he slipped inside the bathroom.

“I don’t – I’m not,” Phil shut his mouth a moment and did a mental reboot. “I’ll be done in a second if you need to use the toilet.” He’d chosen the smaller single stall bathroom that didn’t see much use because he hadn’t wanted anyone walking in on him or loitering noisily outside. So of course Clint had chosen it. Maria couldn’t have known earlier that Phil had had more than a few idle fantasies about doing illicit things with Clint just about everywhere in this bar. His particular favorite was laying Clint out over the pool table, but mutual hand jobs in the bathroom was in the top five.

“Nah, I’m good,” Clint replied as he edged ever closer to Phil. 

“Can…I help you?” Phil breathed when Clint came to stop almost on top of him. The sink was pressing into his back but he barely felt it. The heat from Clint however, the puff of his breath against Phil’s face, the barely-there touch of his hand on Phil’s shoulder, those were things he was well aware of.

“I hope I didn’t misread…” Clint muttered, eyes intent on Phil’s lips.

“Misread wh-” and then Clint kissed him. It was so very different than any of his dreams but at the same time so much better that Phil wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t dreaming. He brought his hands up to clutch at Clint’s broad back, reveling in the play of the muscles beneath his t-shirt. Clint must have taken that as encouragement and deepened the kiss a moment later, lips parting and inviting Phil inside. He tasted a little bittersweet and piney – gin and tonic? – with a faint background sugary sweetness from the drink he’d snuck from Phil’s soda.

“Yeah,” Clint grinned against his lips, stole a few more brief kisses, then set to work getting Phil to make another desperate little noise.

Two could play at that game though, and Phil had finally managed to overcome his initial surprise. If this was going to happen, he might as well go all in. With a grunt he levered himself away from the sink, spun the two of them around, and backed Clint into the wall next to the sink. Clint’s huffed laugh of surprised delight quickly turning into a muffled moan when Phil worked a leg in between his and pressed against his erection.

“And here I was the one that had the Dutch courage,” Clint laughed briefly before Phil claimed his mouth in a biting kiss. 

Phil felt like a man possessed, pressing against Clint, drinking in all the wonderful sounds he made as the kiss continued on and their hips rocked together slowly and surely. A thought occurred to him then and he tore himself away, taking a brief moment to look at the high color on Clint’s cheeks, how red his lips were from the kissing, and his blown pupils.

“Oh God…” Clint breathed out as Phil lowered himself to his knees, pressing a kiss to Clint’s erection through the denim. “You don’t…ah Phil…” his name was drawn out into a whine as he lowered the zipper and pulled Clint’s cock out from his boxers. 

“Oh shit shit shit mmph…”

Phil glanced up to see Clint biting his lip as he slowly slid him into his mouth. He closed his eyes and hummed in pleasure and he worked the shaft, reveling in how Clint tasted and felt, the sounds he was making above him. A thrill ran down his spine at how he – plain and boring Phil Coulson – was taking Clint apart. 

It wasn’t going to last very long; it shouldn’t last long really, they were in a public place and Phil knew that, but he was almost disappointed when he felt the tremors in Clint’s thighs and his hands began to scrabble against Phil’s head and shoulder. One eventually fisting in his hair and tugging.

“Phil, Phil, I’m gonna come, Phil-” Clint’s voice trailed off into a whimper as Phil responded by taking as much of him as he could and swallowing around the head of his cock as he came with a strangled cry. Phil lapped up the come he didn’t manage to swallow before he tucked Clint back into his pants and leaned his head against his thigh. Soon after, Clint pulled Phil to his feet, still panting softly and brushed his hand lightly over his groin and hummed softly as he encountered a wet spot.

“Hmm… Next time then,” Clint breathed against Phil’s cheek and he was pretty sure he’d come again right there from the sound of Clint’s voice if he were able. Unfortunately, his body stiffened for an entirely different reason – shock. Clint Barton wanted him for more than just a quick tumble? Of course with Phil’s poor luck, Clint picked up on his reaction and backed away from him.

“Okay – one time deal then, I get it,” the smile he gave Phil looked more than a little fake. “I uh…I should have expected as much I guess. Got an itch to scratch, it happens.” Clint was still smiling but he looked more like he was in pain than happy and Phil was frozen to the spot as the reality of what he’d just done hit him.

He'd just given Clint Barton a blowjob in the bathroom of his favorite bar.

“I mean – big shot like you wouldn’t want anything to do with someone like me.”

“Clint, I-”

“Nah, s’okay man, thanks for the stress relief, okay?” and Clint unlocked the door and backpedaled himself out of the bathroom before Phil could manage to say anything else.

Well shit. He’d just fucked that up royally.

Except no. No he hadn’t. Or well, he had, but he was going to fix it. 

The same insane courage that had him backing Clint into the wall made him rush out of the bathroom. A quick glance confirmed that Clint had made a break for it outside and Phil made a beeline for the door himself, completely ignoring the looks his friends were giving him. Clint was half-way down the block, straddling his bike while he fumbled with his helmet.

“Clint wait! Please!” Phil shouted as he jogged down the sidewalk. For a second he wasn’t sure Clint had heard him, but then he saw his shoulders slump and he settled more firmly against the bike. “Please let me explain,” he panted as he came to a stop.

“What’s there to explain, Coulson? We both got off and that’s all there was to it.” And as much as it pained Phil to think it, he really hoped he wasn’t imagining a note of hurt in Clint’s voice. That meant there was something he could change. That he might actually have a chance.

“What if there was more to it? Or-or if I wanted there to be more to it?” He did his best not to cheer when Clint stopped looking at the helmet in his lap and turned to look at him. “Is that okay? To want more?”

 

 

Two Months Later

 

 

Finals week was over and everyone was once again crowding around a table at the bar. Jasper and Felix were bickering over musical choices. Andrew and Melinda had their heads bowed together and were snickering over something that Phil was pretty sure he didn’t want to know about. Maria and Nick were debating who was going to rise to the top of the National League East this year. And Phil? Phil was watching Clint Barton slink his way around a pool table and head towards him. 

“Hey baby,” Clint whispered against his lips before pressing a kiss to them, one Phil returned eagerly as they leaned together. Still fully flush against Phil, Clint reached around him to snag his soda, draining it in several long swallows. “D’ya want me to go easy on Pierce, or kill him quick?”

Phil was slightly too distracted by the proximity of Clint’s neck to fully parse the question at first, but after he’d pressed a few kisses to it he pulled back enough to catch Clint’s gaze. “Quicker you beat him, the quicker we can get out of here.”

Clint’s smile turned rather lascivious and he shared another lingering kiss with Phil before heading back towards the pool table and his latest mark.

“Man, soon as he’s getting some on the regular he’s ready to abandon us,” Nick sniffed in mock hurt.

“I can’t believe I am going to say this, but I think they were less annoying when they were pining over each other,” Felix said drolly.

“Maybe Andrew should write another paper – this one on how friends don’t let friends become sappy and prone to PDA’s,” Jasper said and Phil laughed along with everyone else as Andrew tried to explain that that wasn’t at all a proper topic. Things devolved from there, with the entire group throwing out increasingly more ridiculous things for Andrew to write about.

Everyone except Phil anyway. Phil had a boyfriend to watch. A boyfriend who, rather than his old M.O. of flirting with the opponent, was now doing his damned best to flirt with and seduce Phil from across the bar while he kicked ass at pool. 

“Just give us enough of his winnings to cover a few Ubers and you’re good to go,” Melinda said with a wink to Phil just as Clint made a complicated shot that had seen him bending over the table to give Phil a prime view of his jean-clad ass.

“I think that can be arranged,” he replied, downing the congratulatory shot of whiskey Nick offered him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [redsector-a](http://redsector-a.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, because I am terrible at branding.


End file.
